Up to No Good
by Snarky64
Summary: The adage says to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Are you certain you know the difference? Written for The Teachers' Lounge Ultimate Iron Fic Challenge, Round One.


_._

 _It's a shame about Remus_ , Peter thought as he paid for his pint and found an unoccupied table in a dark corner of the pub.

Remus had always been kind to him, right from their first day at Hogwarts, from helping him with his homework to quietly insisting that James and Sirius included him in their group. Thinking about it, it had been the way Remus had subtly hinted at Peter's usefulness to the group that had shown Peter the way to achieve his goal. Ironic, really _._

Sowing the seeds of doubt about Remus's lycanthropy had been the hardest part for Peter: ungrateful and mean in a way that almost shamed him. Peter had only dropped brief snippets here and there to Sirius, couched in words of concern, and he had never lied – not really.

 _"_ _Have you seen Remus?" Sirius had barked. Peter had learnt that a well-placed hesitation could be loaded with meaning so he hesitated before answering. "I saw him in Knockturn Alley last week with some friends. No, I didn't know them - I didn't like to interrupt – they looked a bit fierce."_

Peter _had_ seen Remus in Knockturn Alley, and the werewolves he was meeting _did_ look fierce. He had just omitted the fact that Dumbledore had asked Remus to get close to the known werewolves on the fringes of the Wizarding world, to be Dumbledore's inside-man. How did Peter know this when James and Sirius didn't? Because it was a secret, undercover mission and Peter was Remus's contact.

It had been a perfect set-up really – for Peter, anyway. Remus was out of contact with the others. Only Peter could feed him news of their friends. Most of the news he told him was the truth, but he would embellish it, turn Sirius's usual humiliations into something a little darker, or amend Sirius's throwaway comments to something a little more vicious, ambiguous, _telling._

 _"He said, 'Well, you're only a half-blood, and sometimes it really shows, Peter.' Well, you can imagine how cross Lily was about that, with everything she goes through."_

It was true when he told Remus that Sirius excluded him from plans and conversations, and easy to infer the truth was something unpalatable.

 _"_ _I can't_ _have heard it right; I'm sure I can't. Why would Sirius say Dumbledore shouldn't be the Secret Keeper? There can't be anyone more reliable, surely?"_

He had built up the damning tidbits over months, just sprinkled amongst the many truths. He saw the hurt and confusion in Remus's eyes, but he never doubted that Remus believed him. Why wouldn't he? He had been Peter's confidante for Sirius's frequent outbursts for all their years at Hogwarts – Peter's champion. But he couldn't be his champion any more. Peter had had to find a way to save himself, and he had always been good at seizing opportunities as they presented themselves.

The beauty of that opportunity was that it had been Remus's suggestion because Peter was 'unobtrusive' – the very thing that had made Peter such a useful Marauder and a natural _rat_. No werewolf seeing them talking together would think short, plump, anxious Peter was a trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix. James and Sirius were far better known in the Wizarding world, chasing around on that monster of a motorbike. Peter had been the natural choice.

Funny how they had all assumed that Peter didn't mind being considered nondescript. Oh, Remus never _said_ it like that, but Peter had known that was exactly what the others had thought of him, especially what Sirius thought of him. They never knew what he thought about _them_ though. And he certainly had thoughts about them – he knew the buttons to push.

 _"_ _Oh, isn't Remus with you? I thought I saw you both round the corner," he had said as he and Sirius arrived at the house in Godric's Hollow. Sirius's inquisitiveness could always be relied upon to pursue the answer to a question. "It wasn't?" A small shrug, just to emphasise his incomprehension. "His friend wore a travelling cloak just like yours. I just assumed …"_

Peter had congratulated himself on that touch: Sirius's travelling cloak was an expensive woollen one with a full hood. It had been a present from that awful mother of his before he'd left home. Sirius hated it – said it made him look like a Death Eater. Peter's mouth twitched – a small smile at his own cleverness.

 _Cleverness, yes, thank you!_ What was it Sirius always said about him? "Thick as a plank and not even half as useful." _Well, what do you think of that, Mr. High-And-Mighty Black?_ Peter's smile turned into a supercilious sneer that would have surprised his friends.

 _Friends._ His sneer faded.

There were times he had regrets – when he remembered how they would run from the caretaker, howling with laughter! Or the satisfaction of a prank well-pulled, preferably on some greasy Slytherin. Or the scurrying around the other houses' common rooms to obtain information for their map – he was the only one who could do that (a fact Sirius always failed to acknowledge). Or the sheer exhilaration of clinging to the antlers of Prongs as the four of them _RAN_ in the forest on the night of the full moon! What a rush that had been, perched so high! And how different the world looked from the top.

Only Prongs ever let Wormtail ride along. Sirius was even more snappy when he was Padfoot – and that was saying something. Of course, he would never have tried to hitch a ride with Moony. There was nothing of Remus's good nature in those predatory eyes.

Peter swallowed. Would he ever run in the moonlight again? After doing _this thing_ , would Wormtail and Moony run? He felt a pang of sadness, but he couldn't see any help for it: he wasn't large or brave enough to contain Moony by himself. He consoled himself that he – as Remus's sole remaining friend – would find an answer. Perhaps he could persuade Remus to join them. The Dark Lord wouldn't mark half-breeds, but Remus could be useful. Peter would bring Remus into the fold, just as Remus had done for him.

And Remus would believe, just as the world Wizarding world would believe – that it was the fault of Sirius because _once a Black, always a Black_. The slight smile returned. He was certain he'd laid the groundwork well - exploited those pure-blood prejudices as much against Sirius as against Remus – two sides of the same coin - and both of them had believed the worst about the other.

But nuture always showed through. Sirius was supposed to be such a _good friend_ to Remus, but it really hadn't taken much. Unreliability, deceit, repressed violence – all the stories about werewolves that pure-bloods were raised with. The trick was to feed the suspicion, but to protest his friend's innocence violently.

 _"_ _None of us thought Remus would ever …" Another loaded pause. "No, I won't believe it – not Remus." It had been a master-stroke. Sirius had actually pitied Peter whenever Peter had defended Remus. "None of us wants to believe it, Pete," he had said. (He hardly ever called him Pete.) But his eyes showed how wounded he felt by Remus's perceived betrayal._

Sure, Remus was Sirius's friend, but James was his chosen brother and another pure-blood - he would never have even considered it true of James. All Peter had done was exploit what was already there.

But where Sirius's weakness had been easy to chip away at, he was more careful around James. James was far too loyal. He would never believe any of his friends would – even could – be disloyal in their turn. Even when James himself could be hurtful in his unthinking comments to his friends – to Peter, in particular – he was fierce in protecting his friends from others. Being part of that group had been the best time of his life – he, Peter Pettigrew, part of the coolest gang in Hogwarts – the gang everyone else envied or emulated.

Life after school wasn't the same. They still were friends, but they weren't the Marauders any more. They were members of the Order of the Phoenix: it was fraught and dangerous. And whilst James and Sirius and even Remus seemed to thrive on the danger of duelling with Death Eaters, Peter hated it.

And then the deaths started: Edgar and his family, Benjy, Dorcas and those he thought were invincible – Gideon and Fabian. There was no doubt in Peter's mind: they were losing. He Who Must Not Be Named would win, no matter what the Order did, and he would kill them all. James, Sirius and Remus couldn't protect him anymore, and Peter didn't want to die - not for anyone.

Peter had known just who to contact, and they had tested him, set him to spy for information from the Order. And as he fed the information, they started to see his usefulness. Then the Dark Lord himself had promised Peter a place as part of the ruling elite. And why not? Why should sharp-tongued pure-bloods like Sirius have everything? Why couldn't it be him for once?

And it had all been so easy. Yes, it had taken time and patience, but Peter could be patient. Small comments about Dumbledore yielded fruit when Sirius and James decided Dumbledore was stretched too thin to their Secret Keeper – better it be one of them. Of course, it would be Sirius. All the easier to target him – much easier than trying to target Dumbledore, that was for sure!

And then Sirius himself had given Peter such a gift, Peter could hardly credit it! He – Peter Pettigrew – should be the Secret Keeper, because no-one would suspect it. Even in this, Sirius had been unkind. Peter had protested that he was not worthy, but not too much. He had seen the opportunity at once – a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Where he had struggled to find a way to accomplish the task the Dark Lord had given him, Sirius handed it to him on a plate. He had almost wept in relief.

Peter hunched over his pint when - for a split second - the baby came to mind, perched on Lily's hip as she had kissed Peter goodbye and hoped to see him soon, but Peter put that out of his mind. He didn't have a choice – not if he wanted to live, and he did. And with this night's work, it would be enough to secure his safety. He didn't want to stay in hiding nor end up like Marlene and all the others. Anyone could understand that, surely. Anyone would do the same.

Peter finished his pint and left the pub, turning his cloak collar up against the autumn chill. He shivered, but put his doubts from his mind. He wasn't really responsible for anything that would happen – he was only giving the Dark Lord an address, after all.

~oOo~

 _The prompt: "Frenemies"_

 _Chosen definition: An enemy disguised as a friend._


End file.
